


you are the best thing that's ever been mine

by amazingsantiago



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 14:03:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18523033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amazingsantiago/pseuds/amazingsantiago
Summary: The morning of January 7th, Jake denying The Sock Thing. Requested by @4drinkamy <3





	you are the best thing that's ever been mine

Amy quietly hums  _Mine_  to herself while she makes their morning cups of coffee, Jake’s white socks still on her feet as she dances around their tiny kitchen. Last night was the coldest night of the year and the temperatures have yet to pick up so the floor is freezing. Plus, her husband putting his socks on her feet so she wouldn’t get too cold is possibly the sweetest thing he’s ever done and she really doesn’t want to take them off.   
  
Speaking of her husband, a familiar pair of arms wrap around her torso. She smiles softly as he kisses her shoulder. “Morning, Ames. Or should I say Taylor.”  
  
“Ha-ha.” She rolls her eyes. She knows she’s tone deaf — all the Santiagos are (except David, of course) — and pretty much only sings in the car or around their apartment, but even though she’s the love of his life, she’s never been able to escape his gentle teasing about her singing voice. It’s not like he’s much better, even though he seems convinced he and Taylor should duet on her next album.   
  
“I can’t wait for that coffee,” he says as he casually jumps onto their counter like he’s done hundreds of times before. “It’s gonna be another cold one today. You’ll need to wear a second pair of socks at work.”  
  
“About that…” She pauses, waiting for him to gloat about what an amazing husband he is and how lucky she is to have him.   
  
Nothing.   
  
He watches her closely, waiting for her to finish her sentence. Like he has no idea what she’s talking about.   
  
“You put socks on my feet while I was sleeping so I wouldn’t get cold last night,” she reminds him, passing him his “Mr” mug.   
  
He shrugs, feigning ignorance. “No I didn’t.”  
  
“You did. I never wear socks to bed.”

  
“Maybe you forgot to take them off last night,” he suggests, taking a much-needed sip of coffee.   
  
Amy narrows her eyes at his delaying tactics. She maybe a Sergeant now, but her detective skills are still as sharp as ever. “I didn’t forget. My socks are in the hamper,” she says, insistent. Unlike him she always puts her dirty clothes in the hamper before getting into bed. His clothes lie dishevelled on the floor until she yells at him to pick them up several days later. “I’ll show you if you don’t believe me-.”  
  
“Ames, I don’t care about the hamper.”  
  
“Right. But my socks are in there. I was wearing black socks and now I’m wearing white ones.  _Your_  white ones.”   
  
“So?” He questions the significance of the colour of the material on her feet. “You’re always stealing my clothes.” He nods at her. “You’re literally wearing my hoodie right now.”  
  
“Because it’s warm and smells like you!” She defends. While she often complains about his stupidly large hoodie collection overflowing into her side of the closet, she has no qualms about wearing them herself. She has a robe on the back of their bathroom door, but it hangs forgotten on cold mornings, not favoured to Jake’s blue hoodie.   
  
“Why do you care so much about socks anyway?”  
  
“ _Because_.” She lets out an exasperated sigh, slamming her “Mrs” mug on the counter with a little too much force, some of the precious coffee spilling out. “You put them on for me and it was adorable and it made 2am me fall even more in love with you.” Her face softens, placing her hand over his heart. “Can you just admit to doing it so I can kiss you already?”  
  
“You can just kiss me now, babe,” he wisely points out. “I’m your husband. You can kiss me anytime you want.”  
  
“You’re right,” she realises, gently pressing her lips to his. One hand remains on his heart while the other runs through his messy early morning curls as they continue kissing in their freezing cold apartment. Amy shivers as if suddenly remembering the sub-zero temperatures.   
  
Ah, the joys of New York in January.   
  
“Wanna share a hot shower before work?”  
  
“Absolutely,” she responds, grinning. They both finish their first of many coffees of the day and race into the bathroom (Holt was certainly right when he said their marriage would be childish). As they strip naked, Amy balls his socks up and bounces them off his head, cackling with laughter as he tries to grab her and ends up slipping and falling on his butt.   
  
He pouts, drawing out his lower lip in an attempt to garner the most sympathy from his wife. “My butt hurts.”  
  
“It’ll probably leave a bruise,” she remarks, helping him up. She turns him around to check (and  _check him out_ ), her suspicions confirmed by the large purple mark already rising to the surface of his skin. “Poor baby. Want me to make it feel better?”  
  
His pain immediately forgotten at the sight of the sexy look on Amy’s face, they jump in the shower, Amy’s magic hands massaging his butt as they make out under the water. She pulls away after a few minutes, leaning her forehead against his. She just wants to know the truth. “For realz, Jake, did you put the socks on my feet?”  
  
“NO,” he says, loud and clear above the sound of running water. “I hate your stupid feet.”  
  
“I know you did it.”  
  
“It must have been a ghost,” he deflects.   
  
“Fine. It must have been a ghost,” she finally concedes, a little frustrated that he won’t accept her praise. Last night was her favourite moment of their marriage so far, maybe even her favourite moment of their entire time as a couple. She wants to give him credit. He deserves the credit. It’s not just about the socks, it’s about the romantic gesture. He’s kind and attentive and so romantic and she wants him to know how much that moment meant to her, dammit!  
  
Four months later, with their anniversary coming up, she falls in love with him even more when he celebrates her giving him double credit like a  _fool_  with an adorable smile on his face and champagne in his hand.   
  
When they finally get home and she rests her feet in his lap, he explains he only did it because her feet stunk worse than that blue cheese Charles brought into work one time.   
  
She kicks his leg — hard. 

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you think!


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